


Short Shorts

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, bokaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi is a godamn tease, Bokuto is a pervert, and both of them are totally okay with calling the other out on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [this piece of art](http://milkbois.tumblr.com/post/113907172838/short-shorts-hq-69min-im-going-to-hell-but-ur) entirely and my need to procrastinate from writing my essay when im already too sleepy from sleeping too much.

_Damn you, Akaashi._

It’s all Bokuto could think.  Well, it’s all Bokuto could think besides how it might feel to put his hands on the ass of the man currently walking around his apartment, buck naked, except for the shorts surrounding his nether regions. 

They were shorts.  Akaashi had insisted as such.  Though they were so tight and so _short_ , Bokuto could swear Akaashi was just wearing briefs.  Which would be fine either way, if he just owned up to it.  But he didn’t.  Just kept insisting they were shorts.  Short shorts.  The shortest short shorts in the history of short shorts.  Bokuto could guess.

“Uh, Akaashi…” Bokuto called into the kitchen, his eyes following Akaashi’s ass and the dip in his back that led to the waistband of the offending item of cloth. 

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” he sang back.  Bokuto heard the fridge open and close, heard a plastic wrapper being opened and discarded, before Akaashi appeared with a melon popsicle against his lips, his pale, long fingers daintily holding the wooden stick.

Bokuto swallowed, his throat dry, trying to remember what he had wanted from his boyfriend.

He hugged the pillow he was holding closer to his hips.  His very, apparent hard-on pressing up into the plush ornament.  He held back a whine that had been rising from deep in his throat, trying to look anywhere but at Akaashi’s crotch. 

But he couldn’t look at his face either.  Not now that Akaashi’s pink tongue was darting out between his soft lips, tracing over the shape of the popsicle, licking up all the melting juices, shoving the whole thing in his mouth before hollowing his cheeks and dragging it back out. 

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi was holding the popsicle stick away from his mouth now, giving Bokuto a quizzical look.  “Did you need something?”

 _Only your ass,_ Bokuto wanted to say, but only glued his eyes to Akaashi’s naked shoulder instead (which wasn’t helping matters but at least it wasn’t making them worse), tightening his grip on his couch cushion in the process.

“Uh…” Bokuto exhaled, feeling another breath fill his lungs all too quickly.  His heart was racing through his chest, warming his neck and cheeks and mind and making it so difficult to concentrate on what he had been going to say.  “Those…pants?  Just.  Why?”

It’s okay if the sentence didn’t sound like a sentence; Akaashi knew he was pretty much incapable of speech most of the time anyway.  He wouldn’t think it was out of the ordinary.

“It’s hot,” Akaashi replied simply, dark eyes turning back to the program Bokuto had put on the TV some time ago.  Bokuto had stopped watching though.

 _Well, no shit._  

“But…so.  Short?” Bokuto tried again.

Akaashi hummed, distracted by the people speaking on the TV for a moment, turning back to Bokuto and slowly recognising what he had said.

“Oh, right.  I suppose they are a bit, aren’t they?  You don’t mind though, right?” he was moving now, back into the kitchen to dispose of his popsicle stick that no longer held any popsicle.

Bokuto let out a sound.  It was supposed to be of agreement.  Akaashi took it as such, coming back into the living room while rubbing his hands on the back of his shorts.  Bokuto wanted to groan.  Really loudly.  Preferably with Akaashi’s cock in his mouth.

Akaashi walked up to the couch, plopping down beside Bokuto and adjusting so he had his feet on the coffee table and his chest pressed against Bokuto’s side, his arm draped over Bokuto’s lap cushion.

“What’s this show even about?” Akaashi asked, very oblivious to Bokuto’s internal screaming of agony.

Bokuto didn’t answer at first, too busy trying to get air to his lungs as he felt the heat from Akaashi’s chest on his arm.  He gripped the pillow even tighter, knuckles turning white.  He opened his mouth to speak, about to answer, when Akaashi’s hand slid away from the pillow and changed positions so it was resting on Bokuto’s thigh, rubbing soothing patterns into his own shorts (which weren’t nearly as short or as provocative as Akaashi’s).

“Hm?” Akaashi asked again, cheek pressed against Bokuto’s shoulder now.  Akaashi turned to Bokuto, Bokuto forcing himself to look away so Akaashi wouldn’t see absolute pain written all over his features. 

Then he felt a touch on his arm, Akaashi’s hand tracing the limb with his fingers, his breath warm on his skin.

“Your arms are slightly bigger, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi was saying, his hand rubbing long and meaningful strokes into the skin with his palm.  Down from the shoulder, around the elbow, following the wires of muscles to Bokuto’s hand before trailing back up to grope his shoulder again.  “Have you changed training regimens or something?”

Bokuto hacked, face now bright red, he was sure.

“Oh…Kuroo…challenged me a few times in the past few weeks.  Push up contests…and such…”

_Thank you, Kuroo, you amazing man you._

 “Oh?  You must be getting really strong now.”  Akaashi’s hands were moving from his shoulder, finding their way under the string of his sleeveless shirt to his chest.  “Your pectorals are nicely defined as well.  Much more than a few weeks ago.  I guess all that training helped them too.”

Bokuto let out a laugh, Akaashi’s fingers tickling slightly as they moved over the skin underneath his shirt. 

Akaashi’s hand found its way back outside Bokuto’s shirt (mercilessly) but found its way back to Bokuto’s thigh again, burying under the pillow.  Bokuto squeaked as Akaashi downright _kneaded_ his hard on, tracing the shape with all of his fingers and squeezing ever so slightly, kneading again and continuing like this.  Bokuto panted, throwing his head back against the back of the couch, letting his breathing come out in short bursts as his face continued to grow redder and redder.

“Y-you…knew?” Bokuto asked in between squeezes and twists of Akaashi’s wrist.

“Of course I knew,” Akaashi’s voice was low, almost quiet, barely heard.  The kind of voice he took on when he was or had been planning something outright evil.  Bokuto whined as Akaashi pushed down the hem of his shorts, pressing against his stomach to find his cock right under his underwear.  “Do you honestly believe I don’t know the affect I have on you?”

Bokuto glared at him with narrowed, golden eyes, too turned on to be truly pissed off though.

“Why…though?” Bokuto didn’t know why he was still asking questions, when he could be just lying back and enjoying one of Akaashi’s legendary hand jobs.

“Why?  Should you seriously be asking that, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi pulled the pillow away so Bokuto’s hands no longer had anything to hold, his knuckles fisting into the couch itself now.  “You were the one who ignored me.  You saw me walk out in those shorts.  Did nothing about it.  You expect me to sit down and not retaliate.”

“Didn’t know…” Pant.  Pant.  “You wanted me..” Pant. Pant.  “To act…”

Akaashi’s hand left where it had been, his leg swinging over so he was straddling his boyfriend, his own bulge completely obvious to Bokuto now.  That was hot.  The fact that Akaashi was sitting on top of him, their lengths barely touching, his eyes hooded as his head filled with all sorts of dirty thoughts. 

_Please let those thoughts be about me._

“Now we both know that is complete bullshit, Kou-ta-rou.”

The next minutes were so hurried and aggressive and hot that Bokuto could barely remember them. 

He could remember Akaashi starting by taking fistfuls of white hair, rutting against his boyfriends stiff cock and muttering filthy things against the shell of his ear.  Things like how hard he wanted Bokuto to fuck him.  That he was a bad boy for ignoring his boyfriend for as long as he had.  That he should be punished for thinking such perverted thoughts about someone as innocent as him.  Bokuto wanted to scoff at that last one, but held back, only apologising to everything he had done wrong, promising to make it up to his horny boyfriend.  He was rewarded with Akaashi’s slick tongue in his mouth.

He could remember Akaashi finally pushing his shorts down to free his leaking cock, pressing their lengths together, throwing his head back and moaning.  Bokuto grinned, taking a dusted, pink nipple into his mouth to toy and play with, revelling in Akaashi’s pants of bridled, adulterated joy. 

He could remember pushing into Akaashi, cock slick with lube Akaashi had presented from God-knows-where, biting down on his shoulder as he rocked himself into his lover.  Could remember the heat of having Akaashi on top of him, warm hands under his shirt as Akaashi scraped his nails down Bokuto’s chest, leaving angry, red marks and following with a hot trail of saliva.

There were passionate moans of how much Akaashi loved his body, loved how hard and strong it was and how it was his.  All his.  Nobody else’s. 

Bokuto knew Akaashi wouldn’t appreciate him cumming inside without a condom on, knew it would only stain the couch if he did, so helped Akaashi off just as he felt himself letting go.  Akaashi smiled sweetly at him, silently thanking him for being so considerate given the situation, and rewarding Bokuto by going down on him in an entirely different way.

Bokuto wasn’t ashamed to thrust up into the warm heat that engulfed his cock, wasn’t ashamed to gaze unabashedly as Akaashi fingered himself while he sucked, playing with himself through his shorts and coming in them a moment later.  Bokuto followed once Akaashi was pumping his spit soaked cock with his hand, muttering hot, possessive, dangerous words into his ear.

When they were cleaned up, Bokuto still regaining his breath on the couch, Akaashi now clad in something other than just those sinful shorts, they sat close to each other, fingers intertwined, Akaashi’s other hand running its way back up and down Bokuto’s arm.  Bokuto’s chest was on full display now, his shirt having caught most of the mess they had made and was now sitting in the laundry sink, soaking.

“You’re really beautiful, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi was saying, kissing his shoulder and squeezing his hand, scooting even close so their legs could tangle together on top of the coffee table.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Akaashi.  You’re evil and vindictive, but beautiful and mine.”

Akaashi smiled, nuzzling into Bokuto’s warmth, closing his eyes as the program changed in front of them.  Bokuto wasn’t watching it again, preferring to watch Akaashi’s eyelids flicker as he rested, long, dark eyelashes against rosy cheeks.

_Let nothing change._


End file.
